Tears of the Dark
by Samuel Keller
Summary: Thy Dark Lord, may thy blessings rain upon me. May your sacrifice never be forgotten, born of your pain I rejoice in joy. With you watching over all of man, what then shall I fear? Who can stand against me if you stand beside me? With your tears of blood that fill my veins, I weep in sorrow and gratitude for giving everything for your fellow man. Amen.
1. Chapter 1: That Lord, Able

**A message to my loyal fans: Writing this story is my resignation from writing Skyrim and Dead Island fanfictions, mainly from lack of inspiration. I really didn't think far ahead in those stories and now it's gone dry. I don't like the idea of giving up, since I despise giving up, but I see this as a step forward. Both of those stories were flawed and I hope to use what I've learned to improve. That's why I write. I hope to take all the good ideas I got from those stories and put them here. **

**Now for general information: This story is a prequel for what happens afterwards, basically what happens after the 'Bad' Ending of Dark Souls (Although you can argue on what ending was good or bad till the end of time). I know what I want to do and how I want to do it, I just thought this would be a good way to start a Dark Souls fanbase. I really hope you enjoy the story, and if you didn't, please tell me what was wrong so I may improve it. Dark Souls is my favorite game of the last year and I love it with a passion, but sometimes even love will confuse you. Read on. **

The Chosen Undead walked through the ash, kicking it up with his boots. He didn't seem rushed in the slightest, despite the circumstances that lay before him. Around him stood ancient pillars scorched with flames that never wavered, making them black as midnight. The ash at his feet was from these pillars and all the other things caught in the fire.

He glanced at his foot, where lay a Black Knight. He too had scorched armor, with his weapon having not fared any better. Unlike the pillars though, he remained intact. Until he had taken several sword blows to the chest and crumbled into dust.

The Chosen Undead sighed, having finally reached his destination. He was in the Kiln of the First Flame, the location underneath Firelink Shrine. Here was the prison of Lord Gwyn, the last person to try and keep the First Flame burning. But even the Lord of Sunlight would not last forever. So here he was, to take the place of this god.

"All of my sacrifice, for this moment" murmured the Chosen Undead, glancing at his equipment mournfully. On his left arm was the Black Knight Shield that he had robbed from one of the ancient knights of Lord Gwyn. He had found that the strength of that burnt knight radiated in that shield and empowered him as well. He almost never removed it in battle for any reason, finding it strangely comforting in weight.

His armor was the Elite Knight armor of Oscar of Astora, the man who he wished he could thank again. That man had saved him from his fate in the Undead Asylum out of kindness, even though the two were strangers. In his dying breath he entrusted him with an Estus Flask, which he still carried now, and the key to escape the prison. Then he had to mercifully kill the man when he turned Hollow, which was a lot harder than he had anticipated on his spirit. He owed everything to that man, and carried his armor out of appreciation.

In his right hand was the Greatsword of Artorias, the weapon of the legendary Abysswalker. He had taken the soul of the Great Grey Wolf Sif, who guarded the grave of his master faithfully, and forged it with that soul. The sword radiated holy light that would make any unholy being tremble in fear, with even pure hearted beings showing nervousness around it. It was a testament not just to Artorias's legend, but to his own as well.

The Chosen Undead gripped his sword tightly, bracing himself for what was to come. He had already tried this three times, and had fallen each time in turn. He knew what to expect, and was prepared for it. But that did not mean that he was without fear. Fear kept you alive in this world. It became your best friend eventually, constantly telling you what to do and when to do it, keeping you safe. He held fear close to his heart, closer than anything he ever allowed.

"It's time to finish this nonsense" he muttered walking through the fog gate.

Stepping into the ash of the arena, he noted Lord Gwyn observing him in the center. The old god was ablaze with flames, the fire tenderly caressing his face. In his hand was a burning sword that would melt stone, similar to the one he used to destroy the ancient dragons with. The man was old and withered, but he stood as strong as he did centuries ago, with confidence in himself and his power.

"You again" said the god calmly, almost exasperated. "Why do you persist? What drives you forward? Chosen Undead, if you really are chosen, why do you care? I am immortal, and can keep the First Flame lit for far longer then you. You are only playing into the hands of fate. We Undead cycle endlessly to do this task before us, but it is for naught. I cannot understand why you wish to risk yourself to do this."

The Chosen Undead raised his sword and shield, crouching slightly. He didn't speak, instead growing silent.

Lord Gwyn sighed. "And again you refuse to speak to me. That is too bad. I assumed we were similar. I guess I am wrong. Prepare to die."

He leaped forward, the burning sword scorching the ash in his wake. His steps shuddered the ground, kicking up the dust whenever they struck.

The Chosen Undead deflected the strike and stabbed forward, planting the holy sword deep into the god's stomach. Twisting it slightly, he kicked him off the blade forcefully.

Lord Gwyn collapsed to the ground for a moment, feeling himself bleed again. It was a strange feeling indeed, one that he had forgotten. But he knew that the wound wasn't strong enough to kill him. Not even close.

He stood up and slashed rapidly, the flames leaving trails whenever he struck. Even though his opponent wore armor made of steel, he could dodge fairly easily.

The Chosen Undead slid behind a pillar and saw the god stop his assault. Running forward, he slashed him in the stomach and kept running.

The god turned and leaped into the air, flipping slightly as he did so. Then he slammed his sword into the ground, nearly cutting his opponent in half.

The Chosen Undead dodged the overhead blade and slashed out again, spinning to add even more momentum. Building up a steady series of strikes, he felt the god's armor begin to crumble beneath the blows.

Lord Gwyn desperately slashed, the holy sword actually doing damage to his being. He knew that this mortal wasn't to be underestimated now. He was not afraid to die, nor was he afraid of pain, but he was terrified of not finishing his purpose. He could not allow it.

The human plunged forward, his sword stabbing deep into the god's stomach. Gripping it, he pushed even further until the blade forced itself out of his back.

The god grunted and grabbed him by the shoulder. Only for the human to let go and shove him.

Lord Gwyn hit the ground and attempted to pull the sword out. Only then did the human smash his hands on top of the sword, impaling him deeper into the dirt. The blow felt deadly, and he knew what that meant.

"Fool" spat the god grasping pathetically at the smooth armor of his opponent. "What do you..?"

The Chosen Undead twisted the sword, stopping the god's speech. "I don't have to answer to you."

Lord Gwyn let his arm drop, the flames in his body extinguishing. Even as he breathed his last, he began to dissolve into ash. Eventually, nothing remained of the Lord of Sunlight.

The Chosen Undead stood, placing his sword back in the sheath. Looking forward, he saw the bonfire ahead of him. It was barely embers at the point, flickering lowly with the sword still there.

He walked towards it and knelt down, extending a hand slowly. Only then did he pause, considering what he was about to do.

"Wait. If I ignite this bonfire…will I…end up just like Gwyn?" murmured the human. He thought for a solid minute, weighing what that meant. "Will I really be doing the world any good? Will they rebuild again? The bonfires keep the world together, but aren't they also what is keeping us apart? They are the remnants of the ancients who left us, why should it remain lit? What will happen if I do so?"

He stood up determined. "I don't know what will happen. But I will not let this cycle continue."

He then turned and walked out, feeling the small heat from the bonfire behind him. With every step he felt it wither away until he no longer felt anything. It was odd though.

For the first time in his entire life, he had never felt this cold before.


	2. Chapter 2: That Lord, Crowning

The Chosen Undead exited the Kiln of the First Flame, looking around inside the Firelink Alter. It was far darker then he remembered, and oddly enough the Lordvessel was also missing. On top of that, he couldn't see anyone else with him. It was rather uncanny.

"Frampt?" called out the human. "Kaathe?" He had heard of the other primordial serpent from Frampt and had assumed he was at least neutral to the cause. Anyway, he would've been happy to see a Basilisk just to have something familiar.

A head rose from the darkness to the left, a familiar face. It was a sleek skinned serpent far larger then he was, rising to tower over him. Its eyes were crimson but gently so, making it appear fairly friendly. Well, more so than the average thing he tended meet.

"My lord" spoke Kingseeker Frampt bowing his large serpentine head humbly, showing a side he had never revealed before.

"Frampt? Why do you bow to me?" inquired the Chosen Undead. He was mildly afraid of the reason, since he still wasn't sure what leaving the First Flame to die meant.

Another head joined him, one that was slightly darker. This one must've been Darkstalker Kaathe, hinted even more so by his glowing eyes. "Chosen Undead, you have extinguished the First Flame. You have now ushered in the Age of Darkness, the Age of Man."

The Chosen Undead stared at him in shock. "What?"

"By your doing, this world is yours" explain Frampt still bowing. "The primordial serpents, myself included, will guide you to become the Dark Lord. You will rule over man, replacing the gods permanently. Now is the Age of Man, and you shall be its leader."

The Chosen Undead paused, thinking about what he had just been told. He had never really been much of a leader, preferring instead to be a loner, but how hard could it be? He couldn't go back, so this was the only option in front of him.

"I shall accept this" stated the Dark Lord. "What must we do first?"

Frampt glanced at his fellow serpent. "Kaathe, the armor."

The black serpent nodded and pitched himself forward. Then he vomited up a small bundle next to the human, covered in saliva.

"We made this armor especially for this day Dark Lord" elaborated the Kingseeker. "It is truly fitting a ruler of men and will serve you well."

The Dark Lord nervously touched the slimy bundle and unwound the twine at the top. Once he opened it, he noticed rather quickly how it was empty. But then how did it maintain a shape...?

Just then he noticed that shadows were wrapping around his body, flowing into the Elite Knight armor of Oscar's that he wore. He stepped backwards but they followed, conjoining even more with his body.

Once it was done, he was now wearing a far lighter set of armor over his body. It had black edges on it with flecks of flames in certain points, most especially his torso and arms. The helm framed his face, but he could see perfectly through it even so. Despite the flames made in the armor, he felt cold inside this set, as if it was made of darkness.

"Now my lord, there is a second task we must accomplish before you can rule" said Darkstalker Kaathe. "We must go to Anor Londo."

* * *

The Dark Lord walked in the dark hallways of Anor Londo, knowing exactly why the city of the gods was dark. He had slain Dark Sun Gwyndolin before, having hoped to use his soul for his own purpose. This of course involved destroying the illusion of Gwynevere, the Princess of Sunlight, but that didn't mean too much to him.

Reaching the chamber he had met the false goddess in, he noted how there was a large black throne in the center of the room now. The throne looked to be made of obsidian and seemed to absorb the light around it, what limited there was anyway. It rose almost to twenty feet, with stairs leading down to his level so someone could reach it.

Sliding out the two orbs he had been given from the primordial serpents, he placed them on two pedestals nearby. One of them was a dark burgundy red that glowed slightly, while the other was pitch black with only a few points of light to make it appear visible.

"Can you hear us Dark Lord?" inquired Kingseeker Frampt from the red orb.

"Same question my lord" added Darkstalker Kaathe from the black orb.

"I can hear you" stated the Dark Lord. "What is this throne?"

"That is your throne my lord. We had it constructed for you in Anor Londo, since it befits who you are now. You are the leader of this world, and it is good for you to act as such" explained Frampt. "Now take a seat my lord."

The Dark Lord strode over to the steps, slowly walking up them. He looked around, noticing how they had even added decorations for him. Already there were empty paintings on the wall just ready to be filled by a masterful painter to depict whatever he wanted. Banners accented with black and purple hanged from the roof, his helmet as the emblem. With every step torches of purple flame erupted from the side, giving the room a dark light to it that made it seem almost evil in a way.

He reached the throne and stroked it, feeling how warm it was. It felt like he had been sitting in it for years on end, but he had never touched it before. Sitting down, he eased quickly into the seat.

"Very fitting my lord" complimented Darkstalker Kaathe.

"I agree" chimed in Kingseeker Frampt.

The Dark Lord leaned back, smelling in the air of Anor Londo. He had never noticed before, but it smelled like poppies. It was fairly comforting, though he wondered why he had never noticed it before.

"What do I do now?" inquired the human closing his eyes.

"My lord, the rest is up to you" stated Kingseeker Frampt.

"Whatever you choose, we will follow it to the letter" assured Darkstalker Kaathe. "You are the master of this world now."

The Dark Lord sighed, gripping the armrests of the throne. His throne. "I think we should plant some red poppies."


	3. Chapter 3: That Lord, Benign

The Dark Lord strode through Firelink Shrine, remembering the many memories he had here. Coming from the Undead Asylum via giant crow, plunging into the Catacombs, traveling into the Undead Parish, it all seemed so faint now. Like it had happened years ago.

He affectionately stroked the bit of grass left from his friend Laurentius of the Great Swamp, the pyromancer he found enjoyable. He had rescued him from a butcher in the Depths, and learned the basic pyromancies from him. Only to have to murder him in Blighttown when he became Hollow.

"A shame you can't see me now old friend" whispered the human. "I'd love to have you at my side again. You were truly a comrade to me, even if you didn't know it. Goodbye."

He approached the small wall and glanced at the mark placed upon it from the great sorcerer Logan. He was an odd man to be sure, having been captured in Sen's Fortress for whatever reason, but his quirks were what made him so enjoyable. Later he found him in the Duke's Archives, completely insane and Hollow. Yet another friend he had to put down.

While he was there, he glanced at the small hat left from Griggs of Vinheim, the first sorcerer he ever met. This one was a disciple of Logan he found in the Undead Burg, trapped in a closet for whatever reason. The man was most appreciative and taught him very valuable spells that he still used today. He mellowed about having to murder him too, inside Sen's Fortress ironically enough.

"Reminiscing are you?" inquired a voice from the right.

The Dark Lord turned and saw a man wearing crimson robes leaning on a wall, head bowed slightly. The man was Ingward, one of the three Sealers of New Londo and the only one currently alive. The man had opened the Seal to let him destroy the Four Kings, and had cured his Curse more than a few times. He was definitely an ally.

"I'm amazed at how many of my friends I lost" murmured the Dark Lord.

"I sympathize" stated Ingward. "I watched one of my friends die from a ghoul attack only moments after we flooded New Londo. The other…well…she died trying to save Blighttown. That despicable cesspool."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Aye. I found her body. She was a great woman."

"Thank you."

Ingward paused, almost as if he was noticing something for the first time. "Your armor…it's different. It's the same shape, but now it's so black. What happened?"

"I became the Dark Lord."

The Sealer scoffed. "Yeah, and I'm a ghoul."

The Dark Lord stopped, glaring slightly as well.

"By the gods you're serious" murmured Ingward. "So it's true? The prophecy…it wasn't a lie…you really killed Lore Gwyn?"

"And let the First Flame go out" finished the Dark Lord. "Yes. That was me."

Ingward grabbed him by the shoulders and shook his forcibly. "What were you thinking?! The world is going to disintegrate without the First Flame!"

"And yet we're still here" defended the human.

The Sealer paused. "You're correct. We are still alive. How is this so?"

The Dark Lord brushed him off. "I will keep this world together, for the good of all mankind."

"You? You will keep this world together?" inquired Ingward, almost sarcastically.

"Absolutely."

Ingward chuckled. "Well I see literally no option in front of me. I could just lay about here and do nothing, but I think you're going to need my help."

"I was going to ask you actually" stated the Dark Lord. "I need a man of your wisdom and experience."

"I am just an old man wanting to die, but I will help you however I can Dark Lord" responded the Sealer. "I already owe you for dealing with the Four Kings, but also for letting me escape that accursed city."

Ingward sank to a knee, bowing his head as he did so. "I pledge myself to your service, my Lord."

The Dark Lord placed a hand on his shoulder. "Rise Sir Ingward. I need you on your feet."

"Of course. Where you go, I shall follow."

"Then it's a good thing we have a short walk."

They did indeed. Walking up the stairs, they reached a small stone chapel. The ceiling was mostly ruins and moss grew over the walls, but it was still once a chapel. Kneeling in a corner was a man, a huge halberd on his back. He had his head bowed and basked in darkness, seemingly in shame of something.

He glanced back and revealed his youthful face, the only blemish being two scar lines running down from his eyes similar to tears. Apparently they had been carved in by some knife or blade, obviously deliberate.

"Oh, it is you" murmured the man dryly, as if he hadn't had a glass of water in a while. "Forgive me, I am buried in grief. Do you need miracles?"

"No" answered the Dark Lord calmly. "Thank you for the offer Petrus."

"Oh, it is you Ingward" muttered Petrus of Thorolund. "How are you?"

The Sealer didn't reveal his face, but it was obvious that he was being cautious. "I am fine."

The cleric nodded. "Why are you two here?"

"I require your help" stated the Dark Lord.

"I apologize, but I am of no use in my condition" countered Petrus. "My grief is too great, and my blade is too dull."

"But your miracles are still good I presume?" asked the Sealer coldly. He didn't appear to be trying to impress the other person, speaking as if he was beating him with a mace.

"There is no need to force him" assured the Dark Lord. "But he should be aware that all of his gods are dead."

Petrus stopped dead, his eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

"Gwyn, Gwynevere, and Gwyndolin have all been slain" explained the Dark Lord. "By myself."

The cleric glanced at him astonished, then bowed deeply, his nose touching the floor. "Please forgive my insolence my Lord. I was not aware of your power. If you were able to defeat even Lord Gwyn, then you truly are the successor of the gods. I offer you my services as humbly as I possibly can."

The Dark Lord smiled, extending a hand. "Stand, Sir Petrus. We have much to do, and I require your reputation in your religion. Men like you will truly make my empire, no our empire, stand."

"Will we be finding any more allies my Lord?" questioned Ingward.

"Yes, but some of them I cannot have you two with me" explained the Dark Lord. "But now, let's find a matter I've been wanting to deal with for a long time."

They crossed to the other side of the Firelink Shrine, the Dark Lord grinning maliciously. He appeared extremely excited for whatever he was about to do.

He stopped, standing in front of a thin man sitting on a wall. The man was bald and carried a large spear and shield. He was very emaciated and looked sick.

"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed the man excitedly. "It's been a while. Just as always, Trusty Patches is here to help! Wait, why are you pulling out that catalyst? Why are you smiling? Where did you get that armor?"

"Dark Beam" spoke the Dark Lord aiming a pitch black catalyst.

A huge black beam of energy blasted through the merchant and barreled through the wall as well. The ground evaporated from the pure heat of the blast and the stones turned instantly to dust.

"I completely agree with that decision" said Ingward chuckling.

"Bloody thief" murmured Petrus. "The world is better without him."

The Dark Lord snapped his wrist, the magic fading from his hand. He had learned this technique from the studies he had committed into Abyss sorceries, the same kind that corrupted the Four Kings. Unlike them, he destroyed the source of the corruption and made it impossible to be controlled himself. Needless to say he loved that kind of magic dearly, since it was such a destructive force.

"Now, let's head home" stated the Dark Lord. "You'll love the poppies I planted."


	4. Chapter 4: That Lord, Elegant

The Dark Lord lay against his throne, various workers laboring just outside his throne room ahead of him. They were all Undead, but not Hollows, which was rare to find nowadays. Those people, who were his first real subjects, were redesigning Anor Londo from his palace outwards. They were keeping the structure the same, but were now making it his own, with dozens of new glass windows. They were also adorning his banners throughout the city, clearing it of the Silver Knights as well.

The human coughed, a minor side effect of the Dark Beam spell he had casted three days ago. He had overloaded it and had damaged something deep in his soul, his Humanity. He could barely stand without support, but he was recovering quickly.

"My Lord, are you alright? Do you need another healing?" inquired Petrus of Thorolund, his literal right-hand man. He seriously stood to the right side of his throne, but for good reason.

"No" snapped the Dark Lord. "I am fine."

"You should not underestimate Abyss sorceries" pointed out Ingward, who stood to the left of the throne. "I personally witnessed what it does, and it is not pleasant."

The Dark Lord snarled. "Go ahead Sir Petrus."

The cleric nodded and approached him slowly, a small talisman clutched in his hands. Kneeling down, he pressed the talisman gently into the human's chest.

"Heal" he whispered quietly.

A golden aura emitted from his hands and flowed through the human, repairing the damage the spell had done to him. It was still unknown how that spell worked since it was based on faith from dead gods, but no one bothered to question that at the moment. They were all just grateful that it did work.

"Thank you" murmured the Dark Lord appreciatively. He hated to admit that he needed help, since he had gone solo for so long, but he knew it was stupid to brush off your friends.

"No need to thank me my Lord" stated Petrus. "This is an honor in itself."

One of the orbs near his throne shimmered, the black one. "My Lord."

"Kaathe, what is it?" asked the Dark Lord.

"My soldiers are beginning the renovation of New Londo as we speak. I must say, I never thought it would look as glorious as it did so long ago. It will be a shining pillar of our world, next to Anor Londo of course."

"I cannot wait to see it" murmured Ingward. "It's been so long since I've seen that city, the moon making it beautiful instead of frightening."

"All in due time" assured the Dark Lord. "Have you found the man I discussed?"

"Rickert of Vinheim? Yes, we have found him. He agreed to help us when we offered him sanctuary in Anor Londo."

"Good, I am grateful he listened to reason" mused the Dark Lord aloud. "He will be a great asset for the rebuilding."

The other orb, the crimson one, glowed slightly. "My Lord."

"Yes Frampt?" inquired the Dark Lord.

"My Lord, we have successfully sealed off the Catacombs and the Tomb of the Giants, as you have ordered" stated Frampt from the orb. "None of the foul necromancy that came from that place will ever escape."

"Good."

Petrus looked slightly distraught at this. "But…what about Vamos? That blacksmith? I know he was a skeleton, but…"

"Do you question the will of our Lord?" spat Frampt. "I will eat you if you ever say such a thing."

"No, please do not misinterpret me" rushed the cleric. "He just…he helped us…"

"That didn't do so well did it?" inquired Ingward. "Even with his help, your idiocy cost you all of your allies."

"Enough!" barked the Dark Lord. "Petrus of Thorolund is our ally, and we do not insult our allies! If you do not like my decision, I will gladly explain it to you in private."

The others shrank before him, the armor around his body glowing form his anger.

"I apologize my Lord" murmured Ingward bowing.

"I beg for your forgiveness" said Frampt, who sounded apologetic even on the other side of the orb.

The Dark Lord sighed, his armor returning to normal. "It's fine. Just…"

He grunted. "Get me a goddamn cup of tea."

One of the workers quickly rushed over, carrying a tray. Setting it down against the armrest of the throne, he rapidly poured a cup of black tea from a pitcher and added a small dash of milk and sugar. Picking up the spoon, he stirred the concoction together before handing it to his master.

The Dark Lord nodded in thanks and tenderly grasped the tea cup. He had been used to drinking out of hard containers and such porcelain was too delicate. But if he was to appear like a leader, he would have to indulge in such a thing.

He sipped it, appreciating the taste. Then he crushed the cup in his fists, spilling hot tea over his lap.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed out of surprise, the sharp edges not even penetrating his glove. He was mostly astonished, but also burning from the hot liquid.

The servant rapidly wiped away the tea and poured another swiftly.

"You can drink with custom tea sets" offered Ingward smiling behind the mask.

"Nonsense."

Then he crushed another cup in his fist.

"What can we make them out of?" asked the Dark Lord slightly defeated and uncomfortable, mainly from the servant wiping his crotch.

Petrus thought about it. "We can make them out of wood, glass, stone, metal…"

"Metal" spoke the Dark Lord. "The best you can find."

"Or we can use Titanite" proposed Ingward.

"We'll do that" stated the Dark Lord.


	5. Chapter 5: That Lord, All-Seeing

The day was going well until the Dark Lord looked into a mirror.

He stopped dead, having taken a walk to the washroom built down the hall. He may have been the equivalent of a god at this point, but even he needed to do basic human functions every once in a while.

He leaned into the mirror, his hands going up to his eyes. They weren't the same brown ones he remembered from so long ago. He hadn't looked in a mirror since he had been in Lordran, but he was certain they didn't look like this. His eyes were supposed to look like chunks of oak wood having been stained and aged beautifully.

This was not his eyes right now. His eyes were a white-silver color that seemed to radiate light. It had absolutely no other details, as if they were marbles. Around them was where his flesh was supposed to be, but that was absolutely not what was there. The flesh was replaced by something akin to stone, as it didn't budge when he scratched it. The flesh continued like veins that spread to his temples and cheeks, pulsating with a black heartbeat that he knew all too well.

"Abyss" he murmured in shock.

He snarled and turned to face the hallway. "INGWARD!"

A crimson robed man appeared near-instantly, his sword and catalyst out and ready to use. "Yes my lord?"

The Dark Lord took a deep breath to calm himself. "Did you notice my eyes?"

Ingward paused nervously. "Of course my lord."

"Okay. Now please tell me, WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU INFORM ME!?"

The crimson-robed man calmly reached up to his mask, removing it slightly to reveal the upper edge of his face.

The Dark Lord stopped, seeing Ingward's eyes for the first time. They were just like his, silver orbs suspended in black flesh. The difference was that Ingward's eyes weren't glowing, more akin to a dull shine.

"It's an effect of Abyss magic" explained the Sealer calmly. "It targets the eyes, since that is how you see the world."

"You make it sound like it's alive" stated the Dark Lord slightly afraid.

"It is. Abyss magic is inherently not of this world. It's beyond all of our comprehension."

"If it is run by a god, I will kill it."

"It isn't that simple, unfortunately. The furtive pygmy, the first human, took a glance at the Abyss at the beginning. In it he found the Dark Soul, the first source of Humanity. But along with that he found the Abyss. The Abyss is not Humanity, it is something truly evil. Manus, who may be the furtive pygmy himself, merely accepted it as its father. But when the Dark Soul became Humanity, he snapped, all former traces of himself having been split to all humans. While it is true that the Abyss is what truly made humans, it is also what damns us."

The Dark Lord glanced back at the mirror, studying his eyes again. The eyes that weren't his, the ones he didn't want to be his. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No one has ever uncovered even the slightest cure" said Ingward dryly, seemingly irritated by that failure. "Even with the Four Kings as research subjects, I haven't uncovered anything myself."

"Damn. Can I slow it down?"

"Perhaps you should stop blasting people through walls?" recommended the Sealer with a small glare in his eyes.

The Dark Lord chuckled. "Yeah, good advice. But that was for fun more than anything."

"I'm worried if you think using dark magic is inherently fun."

"No. Slaughtering Patches was the fun part."

Ingward laughed. "I bet. I'd find such a thing enjoyable too, I'm sure."

The Dark Lord turned sharply. "Okay, I'm going back to my business."

"Which was?"

"Using the john" he replied sharply. Then he walked off deadly serious, his head high.


	6. Chapter 6: That Lord, Powerful

The Dark Lord marched across the white sands, his feet making small dents in the ground. To his left and right was black water, the bottom far beyond his vision. In the distance were other similar beaches, and huge trees that spiraled up to a rock ceiling.

"Ash Lake" he muttered. "Such an odd thing. It is the base of this entire plateau, yet it is so surreal. If only I could figure this place out…"

He shook his head. He had far more important things to worry about then the stupid origins of a weird lake.

Sitting down, he noted how there was a rusting iron sword in the sand in front of him. In a different time, that sword was standing up and on fire. Now it was discarded and useless.

"It went out" murmured a voice above his field of vision.

"Yeah."

"It went out" repeated the voice.

"What are you trying to get at?"

"It went out."

"Sieglinde…"

A pair of strong hands grabbed him and hoisted him off his feet. He looked at his attacker, noticing a few things. One, his attacker was wearing basic clothing except for a pair of extremely exaggerated gloves and boots. Second, the hair of his attacker was incredibly long and dirty, as if it hadn't been washed. And third, it was a female.

"Why did the bonfire go out?" demanded Sieglinde of Catarina, her voice dangerously low. She had apparently shed her armor out of lack of use, as she had been there since he had found her there last time. Around her neck was a small ring, a very familiar one.

"Would you listen if I told you?" snapped the Dark Lord.

She snarled and let him go. "Sorry. I'm…not myself. Ever since father died…"

She glanced mournfully at a small stone near the bonfire, a testament to her father, Siegmeyer of Catarina. He had died when he lost his will to live and became Hollow. It was one of the few people he hadn't put down himself.

"It wasn't your fault" argued the Dark Lord.

"Yes it is. I killed my own father" she said with tears in her eyes. "I…I thought I had gotten past it….but seeing you…I'm grateful some of his happiest memories were his times with you."

She stopped dead, having noticed something. "Your eyes…I…when you were Hollow, I thought it polite not to look into other's eyes, but…what are you..?"

"The Dark Lord" he answered simply.

She paused, not sure how to take this news. "I apologize, but us people of Catarina are unfamiliar with such legends. If you may, can you inform me?"

So the Dark Lord explained his tale, from beginning to end. He began when he last saw her and went from there, sparing her no details. He wasn't afraid of her retaliation for his actions. After all, he did kill a god, scratch that, several gods and probably caused some horrible aftereffect. He wasn't even slightly afraid of her though. Compared to some of the things he had killed, she was a mere pup.

Sieglinde nodded, still processing it all. "Indeed. I have no reason not to believe you, given what you have done for me and my father. But that does not answer the obvious question. Why are you here?"

He reached out and stroked her cheek. She blushed at his touch and ducked her head but let him continue.

"I require the services of someone like you" explained the Dark Lord smiling softly. "You see, not only are you beautiful but you are also inspiring. I can see men and women flocking to you and marching into battle with a mere whisper on your lips."

"I…I am not a general" she stuttered embarrassed, obviously shy towards his physical touch.

He chuckled. "I do not need a general. I need a figurehead. Someone who radiates kindness and grace to lead my people…no…our people. "

She glanced up at him shocked and his smile got larger. "Will you accept, Lady Sieglinde of Catarina?"

Sieglinde nodded, mesmerized by his eyes. "Of course."

The Dark Lord removed his hand. "Thank you. Now then…"

He whirled around, having heard something. The woman immediately drew her sword but he stopped her.

"No, I can handle this" he said walking forward.

The Dark Lord strode down the beach, no weapons in his hands. Whatever this thing was, he could not use magic on it. If he overused Abyss magic, he would turn out just like the Four Kings. And he would not allow that. He had too much to do to allow such a thing.

Something huge and blue slammed into him from the ground, knocking him into the air. In that instant he remembered that Ash Lake was full of dangerous creatures just like this, creatures he didn't entirely care for.

The Man-Eater Shell stood tall, its mouth open to consume him even as he fell. They obviously had gotten smarter since he had fought them.

Landing in its gigantic jaws, he planted his palms on either side of them. Even as they began to crush him he pushed back, both of them locked in a pseudo-duel.

"Even with my power, physical attacks are still debilitating" he murmured under his breath. "I cannot be beaten here by a goddamn piece of shellfish."

The Man-Eater spat him out, obviously irritated by its lack of progress. He stood up and raised his fists, the gauntlets slightly destroyed form the pressure he had withstood.

The Man-Eater charged him with the top of its shell and he slammed his foot into it, embedding it into the sand. Raising his left hand, he slugged it right in the center of the top shell.

The stone-hard shell splintered under his fist and he struck it again, breaking past it and hitting something squishy.

Gripping the slimy thing inside, which he was fairly certain was some kind of organ, he ripped it out with a sharp tug.

Instantly the Man-Eater Shell died, the odd organ having apparently been something essential for survival.

"Well now that that's over with, I think…"

He stopped because he was suddenly consumed in a huge serpentine mouth, plunged into a world of black and pink.

"Hmm. So there are other Hydra in Ash Lake. How interesting" he mused even as the thing swallowed him. "I didn't know that."

He plunged his fingers into the side of the Hydra's throat, the sharp edges easily digging into the sensitive skin.

The great beast recognized this and tried to cough him back up, but he had a better idea. Charging up a spell in his hand, he decided to try out something new.

"Dark Inferno" he whispered letting the magic explode from his palms.

The black flames flew around him and incinerated the skin of the Hydra clean off. The bones and scales quickly followed, causing him to fall as the remains of its head collapsed with him.

He landed on the beach and turned, noting the full size of the beast. It was just as big as the last Hydra he had fought, minus one head. That head was now beside him, its jaws in a wide expression of surprise.

He swore to himself for not backing a weapon with him, confident in his techniques as a Dark Lord. Then he got an idea.

The Dark Lord reached to the head and lifted it off the ground. The Hydra charged him and he slammed the open mouth of the severed head onto one of the Hydra's necks, the teeth digging in deep.

The Hydra screamed in ironic fury, having just been bitten by his own severed head. It flailed around in pain as it tried to shake the detached part.

The Dark Lord didn't let go and was thrown along with the head through the air. He knew that the teeth of a Hydra were far too jagged to let their grip go that easy, even if it was dead. Spotting a good angle, he leaped off the separated head and began falling down. He was now right on top of the Hydra's main body, in perfect view of it as well.

"Dark Beam" he whispered aiming his catalyst in his fist.

A huge pillar of dark magic blasted from the tip of the wand and cleaved the Hydra in two down the center, black blood gushing from its open wounds.

The huge serpent began to sink into the sea and he panicked. He hadn't thought of what he would do now that he was in midair and with the whole of Ash Lake below him.

"Dark Beam!" he yelled desperately.

The blast pushed back to the shore and he smashed into the sand, something in his body shifting uncomfortably.

"Damn it…next time…pack a sword" he murmured standing up. He had learned that the only way to kill a Hydra was to remove its heads, and with only spells he couldn't achieve that. Thought now that he thought about it, he could've just borrowed Sieglinde's…

"You could've had my sword, my Lord" stated Sieglinde helping him to his feet.

"I know" he snapped half-heartedly. "Take me to the bonfire. I need to return home."

He coughed up something into his arm and he looked at it slightly panicked. It was a solid black chunk of foul matter, seemingly absorbing the light around it. He had seen it before, back in the Chasm of the Abyss. He had also seen it pouring from the body of Knight Artorias and Manus, two humans corrupted by the Abyss. That was not a good sign.

"My Lord, are you alright?" inquired the Lady of Catarina.

He hurriedly wiped it on his leg, ignoring the sting it gave his flesh. "It's nothing. Nothing at all."


	7. Chapter 7: That Lord, A Ruler

**Hello Dark Souls fanbase/Samuel Keller fanbase. If you're wondering on why the chapter titles are named the way they are, I was inspired by Black Butler on the names. I figured it fit fairly well and I liked the simplicity. Just a little explanation since they do sound a bit odd.**

The Dark Lord stumbled through the halls of his palace in Anor Londo, dead tired at this point. The Abyss magic he had cast in that life-or-death scenario had done something bad to him, like he had strained a muscle in his heart. He could barely walk without a hand on the wall, his knuckles white.

"My Lord" said Petrus running towards him.

"What is it?" he asked moving forward. "I'm trying to get to my room."

"No time my Lord, this is important."

He sighed. "Support me."

The cleric grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. Supporting his body with his, they began to walk together like two men in a three-leg race.

"It's incredible my Lord. Ever since Sieglinde arrived, the population of Anor Londo has risen exponentially."

"I didn't understand half of your words" spat the Dark Lord bitterly.

"Oh. Well…we have more people."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes my Lord. Let me show you."

They reached his throne room and walked to the other side where a balcony had been erected.

"You must see it" insisted Petrus. "I never thought I'd see such a sight."

"You make it sound as if an entire city has gotten here…"

The Dark lord stopped dead when he glanced over the balcony, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It wasn't possible.

Anor Londo was full of people, more than he ever imagined. It was a bustling marketplace right below him, at least a hundred denizens going about their business. He saw some men from Catarina and Berenike, wearing their huge armor and lugging immense weapons. He glimpsed scholars of Vinheim, their robes still dirty from their travels. He could see tradesmen of Zena and Carim, arguing with various people about some resource or good. It was so surreal but yet he had seen scenes like this before in a past life.

The Dark Lord felt a tear slip from his marble eyes. He had never dreamed he would see such normal things ever again, considering who far from civilization he was.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" asked Petrus, a smile on his face. He was crying too, apparently thinking the same thing.

Some of the people noticed him and waved happily, smiling at him. He waved back, not entirely sure how to react.

"They have already been informed" stated the cleric. "They know you are their leader, that because of you this land is recovering slowly. Pretty soon we'll send people to New Londo and the Undead Burg once we've repaired them. It will be an empire unlike any other."

Sieglinde suddenly appeared, her armor long gone. She was now wearing a simple grey dress that hugged her body delicately, making her appear far fancier then her armor had. Even still, she had her sword strapped to her back in case something happened.

"That dress looks most beautiful on you" complimented the Dark Lord.

"It's revolting" she murmured aggravated. "I miss my armor."

"That armor didn't suit you at all" assured Petrus.

"You obviously don't understand Catarina women" snapped Sieglinde.

"It's good that people see you like this" stated the Dark Lord. "You are one of the top ladies in my court; come to think of it you are the only one so far. You will be the face of this empire, the gentle grace that is required for such a kingdom to run."

"I'm a knight of Catarina. I've killed dragons. And you got me here wearing a damn dress."

He smiled. "Required of a lady I assure you. Just don't stand too close to me, or they'll think you're my queen."

She laughed aloud. "Do you want that?"

The Dark Lord shook his head. "You aren't my type of woman, no offense."

"None taken. I prefer men who are humble. And men with irises."

"Oh that's not fair" snapped the Dark Lord. "I can't help my eyes."

"If there was a way I could treat it, I would my Lord" commented Petrus. "But it is resistant to all manner of healing I use."

"I want to keep them" he said confidently. "I like them. They make me who I am. I can see the world through the eyes of a king."

"Let's hope your heir doesn't inherit them" joked Sieglinde.

The Dark Lord stopped, thinking about the possibility. It was true. Now that he was a king, he would need a queen. And if he had a queen, he'd have to get an heir.

"Shall we make a poll for future queens?" inquired Petrus smiling.

"No" responded the Dark Lord. "I have one in mind. But it's not time yet. I have many things to do first."


	8. Chapter 8: That Lord, Gentle

The Dark Lord walked to his bedchamber, his tired form barely standing at this point. He didn't want Petrus or Ingward to carry him right now, so he had to at least make it inside before collapsing.

He opened his door and stopped. There were several, um, additions that had been made to his bedroom.

First of all, the bed was at least five times as large and now was in a circular fashion. The back end was lined with dozens of pillows all stacked on top of each other, with linen thrown over the mattress smoothly. Second, they had added bowls of what looked like wine all around his bedchamber, along with some fruits in baskets and other such indulgences. But the most important detail was the one he was most stunned about.

Lying on the bed were three young girls, all of them fully Human. They all wore gowns of deep, rich colors and had long hair down to their waists. They were also stunningly beautiful, so much so that he was literally struggling for words.

One of them looked up at him and smiled gently. She had skin as pale as the moonlight and hair that was pitch black. Her dress was a rich purple color like that of aged grapes and her eyes were stunningly grey.

"My Lord" she said bowing her head. "We have awaited your return. We have been assigned the great honor of tending to you in your chambers. We are your servants, your maids, and…your concubines."

At this all three of them giggled and blushed, obviously knowing full well what that term meant.

"Concubines?" repeated the Dark Lord, almost too shocked to believe it.

"Indeed" answered a familiar voice to his left. It was Ingward, his friend in crimson. "I brought you these girls as…well…a king must have servants like these. I hope they are satisfactory."

The Dark Lord glanced at them and nodded blankly. "Yes. They are."

Ingward noted his expression and chuckled. "Try not to get drool on your bed sheets my Lord. Good night."

He departed from the room and closed the doors hurriedly.

The main concubine stood up and walked over to her master. "So my Lord, what shall we do first?"

The Dark Lord then promptly collapsed from exhaustion, his body giving out on him.

The concubine caught him easily, keeping him on his feet without straining herself.

"I am presented with three women, and the first thing I do is faint" joked the Dark Lord. "Not a very impressive image of me, I am sure."

"My Lord, you're just tired" defended the woman. "Come now. Rest a while."

She laid him out on the bed and propped his head up on the pillows. The others appeared fairly nervous of him but the main one didn't shy away at all. She calmly sat at one side of his knees, looking into his face. "Now, let's get rid of your armor."

He nodded slowly, not too caring about it now. He would feel bad about him immodesty later.

The lead concubine removed his left boot, exposing his foot. He wriggled the toes, feeling them for the first time in a while. As a warrior and survivor he had regularly worn armor to bed and this was a new experience for him. He kinda liked it.

"The other" he murmured.

Then he noticed that she was rubbing his sore foot, causing him to groan.

"Ugh…no fair" he muttered slightly defeated. She had found a weak spot.

She glanced up at him, smiling. "Does my Lord possess a weakness?"

"Yes. The bottom of my feet" he admitted sheepishly. "And your hands apparently."

The others giggled and approached him now, slightly less afraid. One of them sat near his elbow, rubbing the gauntlet slowly. "May I remove this, my Lord?"

"Please go ahead" he responded turning it over to allow her access.

She unhooked the metal straps and slid it off his arm, exposing the bare flesh of his hand. He glanced at it. He had a tattoo of a small fire right over the vein of his wrist, one he had gotten in memory of Laurentius.

"What kind of tattoo is that my Lord?" inquired the concubine who had taken off his gauntlet.

"A tribute to a friend" he confessed. "May you remove the other?"

"Of course my Lord."

Slowly, they removed the armor around his legs and arms, leaving only his breastplate and helm still on. He had to sit up to allow them to remove the breastplate, but he did so anyway. He was uneasy at how they would react to what they saw.

When they had gotten it off, he looked down slightly worried. His chest was covered in scars, most of which from the wounds he had received in Lordran. He had large lines from blades of numerous sizes and marks that had once been bruises and broken bones. He also had a huge burn over his liver that was charred black and flaking slightly.

He glanced up at them, but they seemed to be turned away. He bowed his head in shame. "I…apologize…"

He stopped when he saw they were all blushing deep red and giggling to themselves.

"Oh my, my Lord" murmured the lead girl. "You're very…well built."

He looked at his chest again. Compared to some of the other people he had met, he was incredibly fit. His muscles were clearly defined and he could've labeled them if he had any knowledge on muscle groups. His skin was a deep pale color that shone similar to stone and he had very limited hair due to his heritage. He barely remembered where he came from, but he knew that this lack of hair was not atypical.

He blushed himself, remembering that he was completely shirtless in front of three beautiful females. "Uh…uh…"

They giggled louder, obviously sympathizing with him.

"Is this your first time, my Lord?" inquired the lead girl.

He stopped, wondering what she had meant. That term was ambiguous to begin with, and at the current situation it could be taken down to the furthest depth of any mental gutter he dredged into. Basically it was a double entendre soaked in filth.

They obviously figured that, blushing even deeper.

"I meant being in front of women" explained the lead girl smiling gently.

He nodded dumbly. He had escaped three different prisons, slain a total of 6 dragons (technically 6 and a half if Crossbreed Priscilla could be counted), used ancient souls to forge his own weapons, traveled through time, and killed multiple gods of various religious faiths. And now he was blushing in front of a few women. Granted he knew what to expect from all of those enemies from so long ago. This situation though…he had absolutely no idea what to do.

"Should I just sit here and do nothing?" he asked confused, not that comfortable with the current status.

"That would be best" advised the lead girl.

They slowly removed the armor on his thighs, something he was extremely nervous about. He tried to slither away, but a hand firmly pressed onto his chest.

"My Lord, this is our job" demanded the lead girl with a look akin to a stern mother bear. "Let us do it."

He shrunk into himself, stunned by her audacity. The hand on his chest was manicured and moisturized, but it felt like an anvil. He couldn't move if he wanted to.

Once that was removed, he was now only in his trousers that went exactly to mid-thigh. They were slightly ruffled due to continuous wear, mainly since he couldn't find replacements, and he noted with great disdain what was happening to his body against his will.

The other two girls began to giggle to themselves but the lead one didn't notice, her icy gaze still bearing holes into his eyes.

"Uh…Karin…" spoke one of the girls slightly nervous.

"What is it?" she snapped turning to the side to gaze at her fellow concubine.

"Uh…look…"

The lead girl glanced downwards and blushed crimson. To put it into perspective, her face was a solid foot away from the Dark Lord but their hips were not. Not of either of their wills either, if that makes any sense.

The Dark Lord's eyes widened, sure he was going to get slugged in the face for what he was doing. If he was stable, he would've explained that he couldn't help such a thing due to being a male, but most of the blood in his system was not in his skull.

Karin looked up and chuckled, instantly breaking the awkwardness. "Excited, my Lord? I thought you were exhausted."

"I am" he defended. "It's…it's…"

"I'm aware" she said waving his words away. "Well I guess you need some rest then. But first, we need your helmet off."

She rolled off him and positioned herself against the pillows. Resting his head in her lap, she gripped the sides of his helmet. "Are you ready?"

He nodded, slightly afraid of doing so. What if they reacted negatively to his eyes? He was ashamed of them even now, knowing deep in his heart that those eyes were not his. Those eyes that had perfect sight and accuracy were something evil, something he did not want.

Karin unstrapped the strip on his jaw and slid her hands to the sides. Slowly drawing it off his head, she looked into his face as she removed it. With a final tug, it was free.

The Dark Lord glanced up at her with the new eyes he had obtained, hoping that she did not recoil in disgust. He was not Hollow, thankfully, but these eyes reminded him of being so. They made him appear evil and corrupted, as if the way he saw the world was through eyes of hatred and vileness. He said he wanted to keep them, but in all honesty, he hated them for what they represented.

Karin smiled gently, rubbing the patches of skin beneath his eyes. "My Lord, you are so handsome."

He recoiled at her touch, for once timid during this entire affair. He was not used to human touch, especially on his face. He had only let Karin do it on the other parts since it was less-intimate then the face. Now though, he truly felt naked and vulnerable.

"Relax, my Lord" assured the lead girl smiling gently, guessing why he was so uncomfortable. "You don't need to shy away from us. We are here to serve you."

The other girls got closer, seemingly taking a signal that they were needed. One of them began to rub his shoulders, the other going to his sternum and stomach. He mellowed and let out a noise that could've been a purr if it was from a cat. It felt good, especially since their skin was smooth like silk.

"What are your names?" he asked closing his eyes, accepting their treatment. He was enjoying it, so there was no point in discouraging it.

"I am Aegle of Carim" replied the one at his shoulders, smiling gently. She was wearing a dress that was a shimmering gold color that accented with her blond hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were a dazzling blue color like a distant star, drawing him in and making him undeniably curious to what kind of person she was deep inside. Even then there were undertones of sadness in her eyes and face, with what looked like tear lines running down her face from past experiences.

"I am Hanna of the Great Swamp" answered the one massaging his sternum, gazing up at his face for the first time that day. Unlike the others, she possessed no eyes, a smooth stretch of skin running over the area. It normally would've been odd, but he had heard of cases of heretics who had been branded in such a way. Even odder was the fact that it made her undeniably cute because of it, with her short red hair and fair skin complimenting that look. It also appeared that she didn't have any trouble seeing him either, as she was staring directly at him.

"And I am Karin of Astora" said the lead girl stroking his scalp, causing him to purr louder.

"You are all so…beautiful" he murmured gazing at them for the first time.

The two other blushed, but Karin simply smiled. "Thank you my Lord."

"I…" muttered Hanna. "I've…No one has ever called me that. My eyes you see…"

"I was a priestess" explained Aegle. "I wasn't allowed to be beautiful."

The Dark Lord stretched out his hand and placed his fingertips on their faces, causing them to turn crimson with embarrassment.

"Don't worry. You're beautiful to me, and that's all that matters" he said firmly.

They smiled and nuzzled themselves into the crooks of his arms, still rubbing his chest softly.

He began to doze off, the exhaustion finally catching up to them.

"Good night my Lord" chimed Karin twirling his loose hair. "And be assured that we will still be here in the morning. We will always be by your side, no matter what happens. Sleep well."

He murmured something and finally fell asleep, a small smile on his face.


	9. Chapter 9: That Lord, Understanding

The Dark Lord woke up and glanced around, noting how his bed was now fuller than usual. Aegle of Carim and Hanna of the Great Swamp were to his sides, their heads tucked into his chest. Both of them were snoring lightly, perfect contentment over their faces. He had unconsciously wrapped his arms around them as well, protecting them in his embrace.

He looked to the side and saw that Karin of Astora was standing at a small table, preparing something he couldn't see. She obviously sensed his movement, as she turned and smiled at him.

"You seem to have taken to the new girls very well" she commented slyly.

He chuckled. "It's been so long since I've been with a woman that I forget what it felt like. And both of these girls are so beautiful. It was fairly natural."

"That's a good thing" protested Karin. "Neither of them were very well appreciated at their homes. Hanna is a heretic witch of the Great Swamp, her eyes branded for staring into forbidden magic. Aegle was a priestess of a cult that revolved around human sacrifices. Both of them have had lives full of pain and suffering, and they came here of their own free will."

"What about you?" inquired the Dark Lord. "You weren't forced here were you?"

Karin shook her head. "No. I wanted to be here. I haven't had the best life myself. I used to a fire keeper but my bonfire went out when I died. I was resurrected, but now I go on without purpose. Serving you is giving me a purpose again."

"I am more than happy to" he replied sincerely. Then he winced as he remembered something painful.

Karin noticed near-immediately. "My Lord, what is the matter? Are you ill?"

He shook his head, trying not to wake his two sleeping mates. "It's nothing. You just…remind me of someone. A friend from long ago."

She nodded. "Of course."

She turned around and held up a silver tray. It was filled with various plates of food and drink, some of which he didn't even recognize. Obviously the girls' diets were very diverse compared to his own.

"Do you drink tea?" she questioned placing the tray on the bed.

"I haven't had tea in ages" he admitted, not even remembering the taste. What was tea inherently like anyway? He only drank water when he was adventuring in Lordran, with occasional bits of grog from some old provisions he found. And Estus Flasks technically don't have a flavor, so that didn't count.

She raised a small cup to his lips and let him sip it, not wanting him to move his arms off either Hanna or Aegle.

As soon as he had tasted the substance the memories came back hard, remembering the life he had before all of this had happened. He didn't remember names or places, but he remembered the people. His friends, his comrades in battle, even his parents. He remembered how he used to play ball with his friends for hours at a time, lying in the cool grass to cool off after a game. He remembered the small skirmishes he fought to defend his town, charging into battle with a dozen other swords and shields alongside him. And he remembered how his mother used to make tea with a small bit of honey instead of sugar or cream, the same exact kind he now had on his lips.

He felt a tear slip from his white eyes, astonished that they were still able to cry despite how solid they felt. He let the tears come, not stopping them as he kept drinking.

"I cannot imagine what you have been through my Lord" admitted Karin. "I bet your life was more difficult than all of ours combined."

He nodded, mildly ashamed that he had just placed himself higher than these beautiful girls, but he knew it was a fact. He had been killed in battle and had the Darksign implanted into his corpse, turning him Undead. He was punished for this grievance that he could never revoke, a crime that he technically didn't commit willingly but they charged him anyway. He was tortured, beaten and humiliated, a freak show for his villagers to gawk at while they walked around doing their pathetic normal lives.

He gritted his teeth in anger, remembering the looks they had as they passed him. Some showed pity or sadness, those he did not hate. But those who bore into him with malice and contempt, he returned it twofold. When he was released he slaughtered all of those who looked at him like he was a monster, proving that he was one deep inside his heart. He didn't deny it, for he took innocent blood that day.

But yet, he still wept openly every time he wounded one of his friends or comrades, the tears mixing with their blood over his face and chest. And when he got to his parents, who not only refused to fight back but let him continue, he couldn't see through his tears since they poured so heavily from his eyes. He held their broken bodies in horror and shame, their corpses mocking him for the choice he had made, the choice to become a monster. The Darksign didn't strip you of your humanity, you did it to yourself.

He was captured by Logan's clerics and thrown into the Undead Asylum, which he did not refuse. He accepted it, hoping to rot away for all of eternity. Shame turned to madness which later turned into full desperation. He was absolutely terrified to die, how ironic considering how often he spread it to others. When he saw Oscar for the first time he openly wept tears of joy, as he had never seen another person who was so human in so long he had forgotten they even existed. Sadly, Oscar was the first person he killed since he had been in the Asylum.

"My Lord?"

Karin's words broke him of his thoughts, which he was happy to be free from.

"It's nothing" he lied sipping the tea again. Now it was just tea, a refreshing beverage and nothing more. He refused to believe it was something else. "Nothing at all."

She nodded, understanding what he was really saying. He didn't wish to reveal his past. "Okay then."

The other girls woke up slowly, glancing up at their master with small smiles.

"I…I haven't slept that well in so long" murmured Hanna shuffling her red hair.

"One of the best night's sleeps I've ever gotten" admitted Aegle rubbing her blue eyes.

The Dark Lord smiled. "I can say the same. Now, let's have breakfast."


	10. Chapter 10: That Lord, Crowning

The Dark Lord walked down to his throne room, his armor clacking against the smooth stone. He was refreshed, full and mildly happy. He had a feeling that it was going to be a good day.

"My Lord!"

He sighed. Well it had started good anyway.

"What is it Ingward?" inquired the Dark Lord dryly.

The Sealer appeared to be happy for once, his body standing straight instead of slightly crooked. "We are ready to begin the ceremony."

"Ceremony? To what?"

"To your crowning of course. A king must have a ceremony if he wishes to rule over his people."

The Dark Lord paused. "My people? You mean…"

"Yes. We have finally got enough people to form a real empire. And someone must be at the head of that empire. Of course it makes sense for you to be, seeing as how you did all of this to get these people here."

Petrus appeared, with his smile wide and his armor on tight. "My Lord, everything is ready. We have even made a crown for you."

"A crown" repeated the Dark Lord skeptical. He was wearing a helmet. What use did a crown have?

"Everyone is waiting" reminded Ingward. "I have been given the honor of crowning you. If I can get you to remove your helm of course."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Of course. But I hope to have it on in the future. I don't wish to grow fat and have no need for it."

Petrus smiled warmly. "Oh, I am certain you will need your helm again my Lord. I hope so as well."

Ingward remained silent, observing their conversation with an emotion that could've been classified as disdainful. "Please remove your helm now. I wish for your people to see your face."

The Dark Lord paused, yet again embarrassed about his eyes. He had even told Petrus he wanted to keep them, but he really did despise them. To appear a hypocrite would not be good for his reputation, but even so…

Petrus seemed to read his mind with little difficulty. "He does not have to, does he? Surely the crown fits over the helm."

"No it does not" snapped the Sealer. "If you're embarrassed about your little eye problem, perhaps you shouldn't have become the Dark Lord."

"Ingward! How dare you speak to our Lord like that?" barked the cleric.

"Because I witnessed what Abyss magic does to people, you little sniveling wolf" sneered Ingward. "Unlike you, I am aware of the consequences of my actions and those of others'."

"What's that supposed to mean?" growled Petrus narrowing his eyes.

"Absolutely nothing" replied the Sealer chuckling slyly. "Little wolf."

The Dark Lord sighed. He really hated it when they argued like this. They did it so frequently that it had become a regular thing for them. "Fine. I'll remove the helm." He really just wanted them to shut up, but he didn't say that.

He grabbed the helm and lifted it off, his hair pulling free from its confine. He had hair that went all the way to his shoulders when down, something he had obtained due to a lack of scissors. It was actually combed and brushed, something he hadn't noticed before. Obviously one of the girls had done it while he was sleeping.

"See? The kingdom should be led by a handsome man such as yourself" said Ingward encouragingly.

"I agree wholeheartedly" stated Petrus smiling.

The Dark Lord rubbed the patches underneath his eyes, yet again feeling that they were sore. "Let's get this over with."

They walked into this throne room and he immediately noticed something. People had obviously heard about his leadership, as they had laid many gifts at the foot of his throne on the steps. They were simple things he was sure, like fruit or cakes, but it was a huge gesture. Those people were immigrants, non-natives of Lordran. Their immigration was probably already difficult, and they had the generosity to give him gifts such as this…

He nearly cried right there, their showing of kindness something he had never expected. He didn't need any of this, and it was rude to refuse it, but he desperately wanted to find who had sent these gifts and return them personally. They needed this food, not him. He slept well and ate well every day, he didn't need anything from them.

"If you wish, I can return them" assured Petrus. "They will understand."

The Dark Lord shook his head. "No. I cannot refuse gifts, no matter how much I want to. It's rude to do so. But I want my first law to be thanks for these gifts. I want each one returned twofold to all members of my kingdom, even the ones who didn't send a gift."

"Everyone sent a gift" said Ingward. "I did the count. No one abstained."

The Dark Lord tightened his fists, nearly losing his composure. No one ever showed him kindness like this before and it was hard to comprehend it. These people obviously believed in him so strongly, even if they had never met him or heard of him. Just knowing that he was their leader gave them confidence. That wasn't something a person could just forget.

"Come" he ordered wiping his eyes even if they didn't have tears flowing from. "I want to see my people."

"Of course my Lord" said Ingward, completely understanding why he was having such difficulty.

They walked to the balcony at the back of the room and saw that Sieglinde was already there, her hair now beautifully cut and curled. She was wearing a golden dress that shimmered in the light, but what seemed to gleam most were her eyes, like she had two stars mounted in her skull.

"My Lord" she chimed bowing slightly, her hands bringing up the sides of her dress in a proper lady-like bow.

He nodded in thanks and looked out, amazed at what he saw. Before this had been a marketplace, now it was a crowd. The entire space was packed, not a single empty space available. He even saw some people leaning out of windows or sitting on the roofs, all of them focused right in on him. But that was not what he noticed first.

He had noticed that before he had stepped forward they were anxiously talking amongst themselves, their eyes full of fear and doubt. But as soon as they saw him, their eyes lit up with hope and joy, smiling with broad grins up at him. It was as if his presence alone was that of the morning star, bringing rise to all the promises of prosperity that can be found in this world. They all looked at him with one voice calling out from all of them, "We are glad to see you". It was such a positive wave of energy that he nearly buckled under it, surprised at how affected he was by it. He had never even seen that many people before, let alone that many of people looking directly at him with eyes full of happiness. It was so disorienting that he felt the need to vomit, vertigo settling in near-instantly.

"It's okay" assured Ingward understandingly. "They believe in you."

"What do they believe in specifically?" challenged the Dark Lord.

"That you will make their lives better."

He gulped, that promise being one that he wasn't sure he could keep. A warrior does not lead civilians around, even he knew that. But here he was, having slain many creatures and now the head of an empire. An empire of what? Immigrants and cast-outs? Not a single person here was desired at home, they all came because they had to. For the simple promise of a better life, they came from far and wide. They didn't even have a name beside Lordran, absolutely nothing but this hope binding them together. The hope that things can only get better, that maybe they can wake up one day and actually feel safe and happy. He knew that feeling well. He had hoped for the same thing when he was just the Chosen Undead.

Ingward walked to his side, standing straight. Obviously he was having difficulty standing in front of such a large group of people as well, judging by his stiffness. "People of Lordran!"

They all fell silent, his voice ringing with the authority of church bells. He didn't appear to have any trouble speaking so powerfully though, his voice running through them all at just the right volume and tone to be authoritative but encouraging.

"Today, we crown the man known to us all as the Dark Lord. But who is this man? What is he really?"

"_A coward"_ thought the Dark Lord, reflecting on all the times he had been afraid to come out of the shadows and sacrifices a little blood for a stranger. _"A thief"_ he thought remembering all the times he had stolen belongings of previous travelers and probably causing their deaths_. "A murderer"_ he thought remembering all the people he had slain, wondering if it was necessary. Surely he could've shown mercy at least to a few people. Did everyone he had killed need to die..?

"He is a warrior" spoke Ingward confidently, cutting the Dark Lord from his thoughts. "He has braved the horrors of the Undead Asylum, the Burg and Parish which were once overrun with Undead, the disgusting vileness of Blighttown, the deadly traps of Sen's Fortress, the ancient protectors of Anor Londo, the flaming stones of the Demon Ruins and Lost Izalith, the pitch-darkness of the Catacombs and Tomb of the Giants, the ominous secrets of the Duke's Archives and Crystal Caves, the pagan worshipers of the Darkroot Garden, the ancient sickness dwelling in New Londo that once lay in ruins, and even traveled into the ancient Kiln of the First Flame, where Lord Gwyn still breathed. He braved it all, and never once gave up."

"_Not true"_ thought the Dark Lord. _"I gave up so many times. I just sat at the bonfire and hoped desperately something would kill me and put me out of my misery. I even committed suicide dozens of times, throwing myself recklessly into combat, hoping that just once I'd finally not come back. Why did I come back all of those times? What made me keep going?"_

"He is a leader" stated Ingward. "He convinced numerous people to charge into battle without hesitation, inspiring them to follow him. He showed them hope, something that they hadn't seen in so long that they wanted to follow him. Others helped him, knowing that somehow they were serving everyone by improving the life of this one man."

"_Yeah, and that lead them to their deaths"_ he thought coldly. _"Siegemeyer, Solaire, Griggs, Logan, Laurentius, Paladin Leeroy, Witch Beatrice, Vince and Nico, Black Iron Tarkus, Anastacia…all of them are dead because of me. And none of them deserved it."_

"And finally, our Lord is human" finished Ingward. "But why is this a good thing? Well the answer is simple. Our Lord is imperfect. He has made mistakes. But that is what makes him far greater any who have ever stood in Anor Londo. He does not claim to be a god who is perfect and wise. He feels the same things we do, all of it, not just the negatives or positives. He has felt sadness and anger and misery of course, but also happiness and love and hope. He has struggled and he has preserved, and has proven that he is a shining example of what being a human can become. So banish from your minds the images of a god-king that may have formed in your heads. Our Lord is far greater than that. He is not a cold god who will judge you based on some unfair self-righteousness. He will never demand sacrifices to his greatness or to bow at his feet. No, our Lord is above that. For today, we will prove to all lands that we do not need a god to lead our people in some false security! Today, we prove that being human is enough!"

They all cheered, their cries filling the city with optimism and hope. It floated all the way up to the four people on the balcony, making it seem like the entire place was glowing.

"Wow. It's remarkable" murmured Sieglinde.

"Indeed" agreed Petrus. "I've never felt something like this before, even back in my homeland. I agree wholeheartedly to that notion about the gods as well. The gods have only left me down, taking away my Lady in such a way…I can never even say they existed. What kind of gods would allow such things to happen?"

"Gods we do not need, Sir Petrus" said Ingward. "We will forge ahead without them."

He gestured to a servant, who held a small cushion. On top of this cushion was a smaller crown, closer to a circlet then anything. It appeared to be carved out of black metal, beautifully elongated and curved gently all across. It appeared almost feminine, but the black jewels laden in it gave it weight and power that seemed to emit from it directly.

Ingward slowly took it off the cushion and raised it.

The Dark Lord took a knee, knowing that this was standard procedure. He kept his eyes down even as he felt the cold metal hit the rim of his head. The circlet was cold, but it also had warmth that seemed almost human, a gentle pulse that made him feel rather pleasant.

He stood, his people still deadly silent, waiting for something for him to say. They all had their breath held in their throats, their eyes displaying the anticipation that they dare not vocalize.

The Dark Lord stretched out his arms, as if he was going to embrace all of his people. He smiled gently, making sure that they all could see it.

"My fellows…" he began.

The crowd exploded, the ground shaking as they jumped in enthusiasm. Just seeing his gesture and his choice of words was enough for them. The way he spoke showed them that he did care for them, that they were his people and his alone, something they had hoped so long for. He didn't speak as if he was a ruler of a general. He spoke like he was talking to a friend who he was glad to see, a long-lost comrade. His arms were welcoming and warm, his smile only reflecting that.

"Nice speech" commented Sieglinde. "Never seen such a powerful reaction."

"I barely said anything" murmured the Dark Lord nervously.

"Being a leader makes your voice very weighty" explained Petrus.

"Let's hope you don't crack the balcony with your words then" joked Ingward. "Come on my lord. It's going to be your first day being king."


	11. Chapter 11: That Lord, Militaristic

The Dark Lord sat on his throne, the circlet on his head comforting him slightly. He was desperately hoping to do something today, mainly something on his personal agenda, but if that was not possible he wanted to just head back to his room. Chiefly back to Karin, Aegle and Hanna. He had found their company immensely enjoyable in every way. He had talked to them for hours that morning, never growing bored of the subjects or topics they brought up.

"What can I expect on my first day?" he inquired curiously, already growing tired of his throne.

"Well we first must make a set of laws for our people" explained Petrus. He appeared to be reading off a small book, as if it was an instruction guide for new empires. "After that we must discuss judicial processes, armies, and then our foreign affairs…"

The Dark Lord let out an exasperated sigh. He hated this kind of activity, this wearisome brain work. It was definitely not his sort of thing, reserved for scholars and those who could no longer fight.

"I have no idea what to do" he admitted standing up decidedly. "Petrus, Ingward, I trust your decisions completely. Please proceed while I go back to my quarters."

"But my lord!" objected Petrus.

"You don't expect us to do this tedious labor do you?" inquired Ingward horrified.

"You two are far smarter than I could ever be" affirmed the Dark Lord. "I have literally no knowledge of such subjects. My help will be of little use to you."

They all stopped when they saw someone entering the throne room, carrying two very distinctive pieces of equipment. His armor was standard of Eastern warriors, but his weapons were definitely unique. His shield was immense and shone brilliantly, appearing to be made of simple iron. His sword was curved and immense, looking like it belonged on the claw of some giant dragon and not on a hilt in his hands. He moved with power and grace, like he was skating across ice.

"Shiva of the East" murmured the Dark Lord surprised. "What…what are you doing here?"

The man didn't respond, instead stopping right in front of him with his hands still on his weapons. Then he bowed to the ground, placing his sword tip on the ground and tucking his head.

"My Lord" he said simply, his voice gruff and dry. "I come to serve you."

The Dark Lord's eyes widened in shock. "Leave us, both of you. I need to talk to him alone. Now!"

Petrus and Ingward fled, seemingly forgetting the fact that the entire legislature system is now up to them.

The Dark Lord offered his hand, smiling gently. "Rise Shiva. Why have you come here?"

The warrior stood, tucking his sword into a sheath hidden in his shield. Walking forward, he sighed deeply.

"The Clan has been dispersed" he explained, referring to the Forest Hunter Clan in Darkroot Garden. "Alvina declares that our purpose no longer exists, as if the clan itself is no longer needed in this world. I do not understand what that insane cat was talking about though."

"The grave of Sir Artorias" responded the Dark Lord. "Alvina made the Clan to protect that one man's grave, and she failed."

"How are you aware of this?" questioned Shiva. Yet again he displayed that critical way of speech, as if the slightest wrong answer would set him off.

"I met the man who defiled it, but he died shortly afterwards" lied the Dark Lord smoothly, extremely used to having to do so over the years. He didn't feel the slightest guilt for what he did, as it was necessary to defeat the Four Kings of New Londo at the time.

Shiva nodded, believing his words. After all, he had no reason to disbelieve him. He had left their covenant legally and morally, never actually betraying any of their oaths or conditions. He was a reliable enough man.

"Now I wander this land, without purpose" said the warrior slightly depressed. "I have nothing to do anymore, and I grow bored. So I come here to fight alongside a new leader, for I must have someone guiding my actions. I am a blade, and now I am your blade."

The Dark Lord nodded. "If that is the case, I gladly accept it."

"Good, for you might need it."

"Pardon?"

The warrior pointed out to the horizon through the window, but more specifically to his city. "You are a new leader to these people, so at first your rule will be easy. But eventually, they will grow restless. They may even attempt to overthrow you."

"I will not let that happen" snapped the Dark Lord firmly. "I've worked too hard and too long to have my successes ripped from me."

Shiva smiled through his helmet, his body radiating the same happiness. "Good. Keeping order should be easy. Just install a guard with me as the head. While I'd prefer fighting your enemies, I'll have to settle with that for the moment."

"Well I am trying to not go into war with any of the other lands" explained the Dark Lord. "We are an incredibly young kingdom. Come to think of it, we were barely made today."

Shiva nodded. "Then it is obligatory for you to have guards. A city is just a gathering of people without guards."

"Agreed."

The Dark Lord strode towards the door and threw it open. "Sir Petrus! Sir Ingward!"

"Yes my Lord!" they both exclaimed at the same time, having been peeping into their conversation earlier.

"My first decree is to have a guard installed into my city with regular patrols and stations! The head captain shall be Sir Shiva of the East who stands at my side! Make sure all rotations cover the entire city at any given moment and that the men assigned are all the best!"

Petrus nodded firmly. "I shall get started."

"I can organize the patrols" stated Ingward. "Let me get on it."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Very good. Well that due?"

"Well, what should the guards do?" inquired the cleric.

"We don't exactly have any laws to uphold at the moment" reminded the Sealer.

"Tell them to keep the peace" advised Shiva. "Just keep people from killing each other and it'll be fine until we come up with some more ideas."

"Good point" said the Dark Lord. "Well there's no point passing any laws if we don't have guards to uphold them, so I think we should wait until the patrols are out before we make more."

"Agreed" commented Ingward. "We meet tomorrow to discuss more ideas. Including Sir Shiva of course."

"Thank you" spoke the Eastern warrior. "Good luck gentlemen."


	12. Chapter 12: That Lord, Loving

"No, please don't. I'm fine by myself" objected the Dark Lord frantically being dragged by his arms.

"My Lord, we are supposed to serve you" reminded Karin of Astora, one of the primary draggers. "This service is included in that."

"But…"

"No buts my Lord" said Aegle of Carim. "Well, we might see yours."

They all giggled to themselves, amused by the situation. He wasn't though.

"This is ridiculous; I can take a bath without any aid even if I was injured."

"But that is not what a king would do" stated Hanna of the Great Swamp, staring at him even without eyes. "A king would allow his three beautiful servants to bathe him as an indulgence."

"If I have any more indulgences, I'll get fat" he argued.

"Then we'll carry you" replied Karin calmly.

They reached the washroom and quickly locked the door to prevent him from escaping.

"Now, strip" said Karin.

He stood stock-still, his mind having shut down again. The bath behind him was full of steaming water and he could feel it on the base of his neck, but that only messed up his thoughts more. He didn't know what to do. Sure he had shared a bed with them, but that was slightly different. He hadn't been fully naked then.

"Uh…can you all leave for a second?" he asked nervously.

"No" responded Karin coldly. "Strip."

He blushed deep red, embarrassed. He was a powerful warrior and a woman who used knives for buttering toast was ordering him around. He seriously hoped Ingward or Shiva never heard about this. Come to think of it, he hoped no one would ever hear about this.

"Then…can you turn away?"

She sighed. "Fine."

They all turned away from him, offering him some modesty. He appreciated it, the awkwardness decreasing slightly.

He unfastened his armor expertly, having done so many times in the past few days. Casting it aside, he removed his shirt and trousers, leaving only the loincloth.

"You better not turn around" he ordered firmly, or as firmly as he could at that moment.

"It's tempting" joked Hanna.

"Aye it is" admitted Aegle.

The Dark Lord stepped into the bath, unfastening the loincloth as he went. Sliding neatly into the water, he made sure the bubbles hid himself from view.

"It's okay. You can look now" he said glancing back at them.

They turned around and noted his lack of clothing rather quickly.

"Oh my" murmured Hanna.

"Can you see him?" inquired Karin.

"Completely."

"Damn those pseudo-eyes of yours" snapped the Dark Lord covering his groin area futilely. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

"No" said the redhead. "No you can't."

Karin smiled at him gently, like a mother scolding a child. "You know we have to join you, correct?"

His blush instantly doubled in intensity, his eyes widening as well. "Not a chance."

Aegle glanced away, herself mildly embarrassed. "A-a-are you sure Karin? I…I don't feel well."

"You felt fine a moment ago" objected Hanna.

"Well now I don't. Can I go?"

"Certainly" said the Dark Lord, hoping to make this situation less uncomfortable.

"You can't" snapped Karin firmly. "This is our job. You volunteered for this service. We have dozens of others willing to do this job."

"But…"

"Do you think I want to do this? No, there are things I wish I didn't have to do."

Karin walked over to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I understand. Letting down your barriers after having built them for so long is hard. It's difficult for all of us, believe me. But we must do this."

"How can I trust him?!" snapped Aegle agitated. "I barely know him! He could just use me and cast me aside like all the others! He…"

Karin smacked her across the face, knocking her to the ground.

The former priestess stared at her with tears in her eyes, but mostly out of shock and betrayal and not pain.

The former fire keeper was absolutely outraged, her face red with anger. "How DARE you talk about our Lord that way? Didn't he already prove himself by what he did earlier?! He is a good man Aegle, the best you'll find in this world nowadays! Kind, brave, and absolutely selfless! If that doesn't satisfy you, then you might as well just die because you won't find anything better!"

Aegle looked down ashamed, seemingly taking her words to heart.

"You don't have to right now" assured the Dark Lord.

"No" said the former priestess standing up. "I will do it. Karin…Karin is right. It's not right for me to assume that you will betray me. I've just…I've never had a person stay by my side for as long as you have. But…I just…"

She looked up at him and smiled. "I just really hope it's going to work, because I'd love to see what happen."

Karin nodded. "Very good. Hanna, are you okay?"

"I…I can do it" said the heretic nodding. "Can he look away while we disrobe though?"

"I was going to do that anyway" explained the Dark Lord turning his head. "though I'd love to watch."

Karin smirked. "So it's fine when you watch us, but not when we watch you?"

"I don't see how that's hypocritical" he replied chuckling.

The girls giggled and quickly fell silent, the noises of buttons snapping and fabric sliding filling the air.

Soon the Dark Lord felt a disturbance in the water and felt Hanna and Aegle cuddling into his bare chest. They appeared content to just lie there, as if accepting him as some kind of cushion for their emotions.

He looked down at their backs and noticed that Aegle had horrific scars all across hers. It was like all the skin on her back had been torn off over the course of a few days.

He unconsciously rubbed them and felt her stiffen, as if the wounds on them were still fresh. "My Lord, please don't touch them. They're ugly."

"No they aren't" he argued softly but sternly. "They're beautiful, they make you who you are Aegle. And I wouldn't want you to ever change. Besides, don't you want these scars to have some happy memories as well? They are forever, so it's good to make them at least a little better."

The former priestess stared at him amazed, then blushed ferociously and ducked her head. "Thank you my Lord. I feel…better."

The Dark Lord turned to Hanna, noting how she looked content. "Let me see your eyes."

"I have no eyes" she objected coldly, as if the subject stung. It probably did, considering the things she had gone through.

"I wish to see them please."

She tightened her fist, but looked up anyway. She seemed to take him in with the young flesh that substituted for eyes, her face one of innocence and uncertainty.

The Dark Lord brushed over the flesh delicately, not wishing to hurt her. It felt soft, like it had just been grown. She shuddered under his touch, but let him continue.

Then he leaned forward and kissed each spot, planting his lips over where each eye would've been.

"You know, your eyes are better than mine" he stated quietly, his forehead pressed against her own. "Your sight is perfect, nothing escaping from it. I just hope you can see the love I feel for you in time."

Hanna blushed crimson red and ducked down her head like her sister concubine. "T-t-thank you my Lord."

The Dark Lord finally turned to Karin, who was still standing outside the bath naked. He did not notice or even care at that moment, staring into her eyes and never wandering.

"Won't you join us?" he asked sincerely. "It doesn't feel right if you are not here."

She nodded and slid into the water, her black hair fanning out as it made contact. She glanced at him with a blank look, then smiled gently in her usual fashion. "My Lord, you truly are a great man."

He glanced at Hanna and Aegle, both of them nuzzling further into his chest at his movements. He could see how both of them were now completely content with him, their minds at ease. They showed no reluctance to be with him nor any shyness or shame.

"Thank you" he murmured quietly, glancing back at her. "Please come closer."

Karin moved forward and leaned against him on her back, her body still mostly submerged.

"A fire keeper you said?" he remembered twirling her hair absently.

"Yes" she answered simply. "I was one."

He remembered a woman with hair similar to this. It was soft and malleable, but that woman had hair the color of the sun. He remembered her beautiful dress that despite its rough age was still elegant on her. She seemed to illuminate any of the dark corners he remembered her in, a phantom in his mind.

"Are you reminded of your former friend?" asked Karin completely correct.

"Yes" he admitted. "I am. And it pains me to do so."

Karin turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Then forget. Forget your pain, like you've helped us forget ours."

Then she kissed him on the lips, closing her eyes contently as she did so.

The Dark Lord's eyes were wide, taken fully aback by what was happening. Being with a female was something he hadn't done for a while, but kissing was even further ago. He didn't even remember the last time he had done it. But…it felt nice. Really nice actually. He felt the pains of his former life disappearing, sliding off like old skin on a snake.

He broke lip-lock and Hanna resumed the kiss, her forehead pressed up against his again like he had done to her. She had her signature blush on but appeared confident, the flesh where her eyes were now smooth and relaxed.

When she was done, Aegle passionately grabbed his hair and did the same. She had a few tears slipping down her face, not out of sadness but joy, as if with that kiss she was finally admitting something deep in her heart. In a way, that was exactly what was happening to her.

The Dark Lord, once free from the three girls, glanced at them all in turn. He felt so refreshed, as if he had been born again in that washroom, in that bathtub, with these three girls who made him feel more alive than anything he could even conceive.

"This is my life" he murmured amazed. And suddenly it all came crashing down on his head in one blow. He was a ruler, a powerful king with guards marching in his streets with his emblem on their backs. He had people use money with his face on it, trading goods and services to each other to help the entire kingdom. And nothing from the past mattered anymore. He was free of it, it meant nothing now. He could do what he wished without past consequences getting in the way, a new man so to speak. It was the single most amazing thing he ever experienced, like an enlightening that would humble any man who witnessed it.

"Yes it is my Lord" assured Karin running her hand through his hair. "And we would be honored if we could join it with you."

He smiled gently, rubbing the heads of both Hanna and Aegle affectionately. "The honor is mine."

Then he kissed her right back, his boldness growing rapidly.

"_I could get used to this"_ he thought before most of his intelligent mental processes were thrown out of his mind by passion.


End file.
